


Talk To Me

by miladiel



Category: The Queen's Gambit (TV)
Genre: Addiction recovery, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Benny is tired, Beth's a dumbass, Chess, Dialogue Heavy, Diners, Drug Abuse, Drug Addiction, F/M, Five Stages of Grief, Gen, Grieving, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Jolene's mentioned because I love her, New Year's Eve, New York City, No Smut, One Shot, Overdosing, Post-Canon, Snow, They need hugs, Townes - Freeform, Winter, and a human disaster, and the twins too, because I said so, harry beltik - Freeform, no appearance of them tho, no chess metaphors I'm too stupid for that, they get them tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:20:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28129032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miladiel/pseuds/miladiel
Summary: “I had this arrogance to think that my sheer presence would keep you sober. That I could keep you busy and you’d be fine. Like last time.” Benny brushed with his fingers through his hair in frustration. “And I believe it was because I realised you were using again, but tried to ignore it – telling myself everything was fine and I’m just overthinking it.”
Relationships: Beth Harmon/Benny Watts
Comments: 8
Kudos: 164





	Talk To Me

**Author's Note:**

> Please note that the second half of this is not beta-read yet and therefore lacks editing 
> 
> I still hope you enjoy :))

The chessboard between them was long forgotton, alongside the coffee they had ordered a while ago. It was cold by now, just like the snow falling outside the small diner. Shifting in her red seat, Beth took a deep breath. The smell of fake leather and fast food was in her nose now, more prominent than before. 

She hated it. 

“You’re not a bad person, Beth,” Benny said after getting no response from her. She let out a humourless laugh. “You’re not,” he repeated. “You weren’t born evil. No one is.” 

Beth finally looked at him. “I don’t think a lot of people would agree with you on that.” 

“Why? Because you’re a merciless chess player? What surprise.” Sarcasm dripping from his mouth, Benny lifted an eyebrow. 

“I’ve hurt people.” 

“You did,” he confirmed. “But do you think that’s all you have as a story? That there isn’t more to tell?” 

Beth frowned. “My life isn’t some funny story you can tell others at parties to look better.” 

“And what if it were? Would that be so bad?” He countered. Beth stared at him for a few heartbeats. “Yes,” she finally said with a huff, “because someone like me who has been through something similar doesn’t deserve to be treated as a fucking gag.” 

“So it’s about others now?” Benny leaned forward, almost amused. Or would be, if he wouldn’t stare at her at her through clenched teeth and a forced smile. 

“Last time I checked you were just as self centered as you always accused me to be.” Beth crossed her arms. She usually enjoyed his quick-witted mind that was so much like her own, but right now, she couldn’t find any entertainment in it. Just annoyance. 

“Whatever,” she muttered under her breath. Benny’s jaw clenched even tighter. “You do not get to whatever me, Harmon,” he hissed. “You do not get to win against Borgov, then disappear for four whole ass months, show up on my doorstep looking like you just came back from the dead, overdose in my fucking living room after five months and spend a week in a goddamn coma just to sit here with me on New Year’s Eve and  _ whatever me _ .” Beth looked away. He was right; they both knew it. His words still stung like salt in a wound. 

She wanted to say something like ‘You’re being unfair!’ or ‘Stop judging me!’ but deep down, she was aware that there was nothing to say for her. So she kept on staring at the black and white squares on the floor that hurt her eyes more than the red neon lights around them. 

“You relapsed,” Benny continued, voice calmer than before. “Why? What happened? You were fine. Sober. You fucking beat him, Beth! Wasn’t that enough?” Beth lifted her eyes and pressed her lips together. 

“You still don’t get it, asshole,” she spat. “You wanna know what happened?” Beth kept her voice in a forceful whisper, so sharp it could cut through stone with ease. “It was too much. Everything was too overwhelming. I had no control over my own life – less than when I spiralled. Beating Borgov was just the fucking tip of the iceberg.” 

She fell back into her seat and stared at the table between them. Her eyes found the chessboard and the abandoned pieces on it. Benny had cornered her with a clever move of his rook, but the longer she looked at it, the more options she saw to get out of his trap. With a tight feeling in her chest, Beth wished they had just finished their game and called it a fucking day. 

“I was supposed to meet the president,” she continued. “In the White House, I mean. Right after I’ve won. I got out of the car to the airport, though. Said I wanted to walk. And never got there.” Beth glanced at Benny. He was looking at her with this neutral facade he often had while playing chess. Calm. Focused. It angered her how quick he was to change moods; yelling at her and then acting all nice and therapist-like in the bat of an eye.

“My whole life I just wanted to be the best. I had to. Giving up was no option for me. Not ever,” she continued with a stern expression. “And now I am and… I don’t know what to do with it. There is no goal, no next play, nothing to work for. I have nothing to live for.” Beth dragged her teeth over her bottom lip. 

“I never thought I’d live this long, anyway” she admitted. 

“Oh come on, Harmon, don’t give me that. We both know you would’ve lived until you’re the best chess player, even if that meant you have to turn eighty. Purely out of spite. You’re too stubborn not to.” 

Beth let out a dry laugh. “So you’re saying dying is a matter of stubborness?” 

“Don’t twist my words into something they’re not,” Benny warned in a tight voice.. “I’m saying you’re not one to surrender. You just said it yourself. Hell, Beth, not  _ once  _ in your life did you accept a draw. How the fuck do you think death is gonna compete with that?” 

Her expression hardened again. “Like he does with everyone else: Take me when he pleases, and leave my life unfinished.” For a second, Benny just looked at her with a small frown. 

“You’re still not over your mother’s death,” he finally said. It wasn’t a question. It was a statement so simple it sucked every warmth out of Beth’s body and left a cold emptiness behind she dreaded since the day it first crept up on her. “Beth,” he slowly started, “Did you ever give yourself the chance to grieve?” 

“Of course I did,” she blurted out. A little more composed she added: “You saw me.” Benny kept staring at her, unimpressed. “Accepting loss and trying to forget about it are two very different things.” 

“When did you become a philosopher?” Beth tried to lighten the mood with a sarcastic smile. It only got Benny to purse his lips. “There’s this new theory I heard someone talking about,” he said while scratching his chin. “Some friend of a friend. About how people cope with dying. They separated it into five different stages.” Beth blinked. “I don’t see how that’s useful in any way. As we already established:  _ I’m not dying _ .” 

The chains around Benny’s neck fell against each other when he shifted in his seat. It was a cheap material, red and made out of something that was probably supposed to be leather. “You’re not, but I believe it’s not just about someone coping with dying. It’s applicable to any situation involving grief.” 

“Yeah? What are these magical five stages then, Dr. Watts?” Beth asked with a faux british accent. 

“Well, if you ask like that, young student,” Benny replied in the same pretentious tone Beth had used. He even pushed back a pair of imaginary glasses, and it almost made her giggle.  _ Almost. _

“The first one is denial, which makes us survive the loss we experienced. We go numb. Into a shock-like state. We can’t deal with all the pain, so we push it aside.” Beth tilted her head to the right while listening to him. 

“Sounds like you after I kicked your ass,” she remarked with a teasing smirk. He simply rolled his eyes and ignored her.

“Then there’s anger. There are more emotions underneath the rage – mostly pain – but to get to them, we have to feel this first. Anger works like an anchor. It grounds you in a way denial couldn’t.” Cocking an eyebrow, Beth opened her mouth again to make another comment. Benny simply continued talking as if she wasn’t even there.

“Bargaining comes next. It goes hand in hand with guilt and ‘What if’’s. You’re basically trying to negotiate your way out of the pain. After that, depression. This is where the grief really settles and you get all the pain anger overshadowed earlier.” 

Beth stayed quiet this time. The memory of Mr. Sheibels death and her breakdown suddenly tightened her throat. “And lastly,” Benny said while watching her carefully, “acceptance. You accept the reality of what happened, and learn to deal with it. This is where you start to live again.” 

“Sounds like you listened to this friend of a friend really well,” she tried to say with a grin, but failed when her voice broke and left her with a hoarse whisper. This time it was Benny who stayed silent. All he did was stare. 

Beth played with the hem of her sweater in an attempt to ignore him.

“You make it sound like it’s just a linear thing you go through and at some point it ends,” she finally said, firmly avoiding looking up. Slowing her breath, Beth closed her eyes to stop her hands from shaking. 

“When I got out of the car, I met a bunch of old men in a park playing chess,” she started. “They invited me to play with them. I beat them, obviously.” Benny lifted the corner of his lips a little like he was trying to suppress a smirk. “I–” Beth stopped, wrestling with her own words. 

“I went back to Kentucky first, three days later. Found Jolene, paid her the money back, celebrated the new year with her and Townes.” Her throat hurt when she tried to speak, like someone had thrown pebble in it. 

“They promised me to not tell anyone. Then France and after that Italy. I met Chloe there.” Beth swallowed hard. She grabbed a straw standing on the side of the table to play with it and keep her hands occupied. 

“In Norway, I was really alone for the first time. My mind just… Started working on its own. It’s a beautiful country, though.” Trying to smile, tears slowly started to form in the corners of her eyes. “We should–” Beth caught herself before the words could escape her mouth. “That was when I started to drink again. And then–” She had to look up to stop the tears from falling. White lights hit her eyes. She had to close them.

“And then I saw those fucking pills in some stupid pharmacy because I just needed something against my headaches and fever because of course I had to get a cold.” All the anger she had against herself finally started to come out. She felt it hot under her skin, raging through her body like a wildfire.

“I continued to travel. I don’t even know why. Maybe– Maybe I just thought that it would keep my mind busy enough.” With a dry chuckle, she finally looked at Benny. He was still watching her with an unreadable mask, which made it impossible for Beth to figure out what he was thinking. 

“Somehow, I ended up in New York. On your doorstep.” Straw destroyed by now, Beth clenched her hands into fists. A single tear finally rolled down her cheek. “I didn’t mean to…” She trailed off. Pulling her shoulders up, Beth stopped more tears from betraying her. 

Silence weighed on them like a too heavy blanket, before Benny finally opened his mouth. “When I saw you again, I was relieved at first. The press wrote a lot about you, tried to solve the mystery you had created around yourself. I was worried.” He showed her a pained smile. “And then you were suddenly back, and I got angry with you. I think I understood why you disappeared, but there was this…” He made a vague gesture with his hand. “This feeling of betrayal.” Beth pressed her lips together. 

“I had this arrogance to think that my sheer presence would keep you sober. That I could keep you busy and you’d be fine. Like last time.” Benny brushed with his fingers through his hair in frustration. “And I believe it was because I realised you were using again, but tried to ignore it – telling myself everything was fine and I’m just overthinking it.” 

Trying to blink away her tears, Beth’s vision blurred until Benny was nothing more than a vague figure of blond hair and black clothes. “I noticed you were using again,” he repeated himself. “I saw the way your attitude and behaviour changed.” His voice grew quiet. “But I ignored it. Because I tried to see a version of you that only existed in my head. And–” Benny stopped and cleared his throat. “And it almost killed you.” 

“Benny,” Beth whispered. “It’s not your fault.” They looked at each other through bloodshot eyes. “But if–” He tried to argue, but Beth merely shook her head. 

“Bargaining‘s next. It goes hand in hand with guilt and ‘What if’’s,” she repeated his earlier words. It drew a huff out of him that was probably supposed to be a laugh. “I’m not grieving, I’m just mad at myself.” 

“There was nothing you could’ve done,” Beth insisted.

Benny tapped his fingers on the wooden table in a steady rhythm. “When you collapsed and just layed there, choking on your own vomit, I thought you were going to die. Not once, in my entire life, did I feel so helpless.” 

Beth offered a weak smile. A few more tears managed to fall onto her cheeks, hot and wet against her cool skin. “I was scared,” she admitted. “I didn’t want to die. And when I woke up in a hospital bed with you and Jolene sleeping on chairs, all I knew was that something terrible happened.” 

“Jolene and I talked a lot,” Benny confessed. “We called Townes, then Matt and Mike and Harry. Even tried to contact Chloe, but... you know how she is. They all wanted to come to New York. I stopped them. Told them you couldn’t handle so many people at once, if– when you wake up.” He played with the bracelets around his wrist. “Maybe I stopped them out of jealousy, too.” 

Knitting his brows together, Benny stared at his coffee. “But she said something to me, the day before you woke up: ‘The hardest part is that no matter what you say or think or do, if someone doesn’t want to heal, they simply won’t. And it’s not even your fault.’”

Beth exhaled through her mouth. “I wanted to recover,” she murmured. “I really did. But it’s like–” She had to pause. 

“Do you know what your problem is, Harmon?” Benny took over. His voice was distant, like he forced himself to speak. “You refuse to see the villain in yourself.” Beth felt like someone sucked all air out of her lungs. “Back in the hospital, you said addiction’s like a disease. And maybe it is, but if you just watch it spread there’s no way of getting rid of it. Jolene’s right: I can’t heal you. No one can, except you. Which makes you your own saviour and worst enemy.” 

The lump in Beth’s throat got heavier when she tried to glare at him. “But,” Benny reached for her hand, gently opening her fist with intertwining their fingers, “you’re recovering. That’s all I can ask for.” Beth looks at their hands, warmth suddenly blossoming in her chest, crawling through her lungs and finally untying the knots in her throat. 

Reaching for his purse, Benny threw a few cents on the table that barely counted as a tip, but whatever. He put the chess board back into its case and grabbed their coats. In a smooth movement, he stood and held Beth’s open for her to slip into. She complied after wiping away her tears, eyeing their untouched coffees for a last time. Once Benny was dressed as well and the chess set safely put away into one of the – in Beth’s opinion – ridiculously large pockets of his coat, they left the small diner. 

The cold winter air hurt her cheeks when they stepped outside. It was dark, a thick layer of glittering snow covering the buildings around them. Little clouds formed with every breath that left their lungs, wrapping them in a silver mist. Beth could hear the partying masses nearby, filling the streets with joyful shouting and offkey singing. 

Trying to avoid them, they silently wandered through a jungle of small alleys. Beth only stopped when the first fireworks went off. Benny checked his watch, eyes widening a little when he saw it was midnight already. 

They exchanged a look, Benny grabbing her shoulders. “Happy new year, Beth,” he murmured over the booming fireworks lighting up the night sky, and pressed a kiss to her forehead, his mustache rough on her skin. His hands wandered from her shoulders to her back, pressing her close into a hug. With her cheek suddenly against his neck, she closed her eyes and smiled, wrapping her arms around him in return. Beth could feel his heartbeat against her own chest, a slow and steady rhythm that let her shoulders relax. Benny was warm, with a familiar smell she inhaled deeply and found comfort in whenever it was around her.

“Promise me,” he suddenly said into her hair. “Promise me you start talking to me when something’s wrong.” Beth wanted to look at him, but once she realised that meant she had to give up the physical contact, she just stayed where she was. “Happy new year, Benny,” she said instead of replying, pressing her lips against his neck. 

Beth really wanted to promise it, wanted to make sure she never let herself slip up like that ever again, but deep down they both knew she couldn’t. She was too messed up, too deep down to make a promise like that. 

It made her tear up once more, a stone settling into her guts she knew wouldn’t go away anytime soon. 

  
  



End file.
